I’m really not sure. I sit near a small body of water on the campus of UCD Dublin, my ‘home’ for the next few months, but not yet even familiar. Beyond this, I couldn’t really tell you. Big changes are incredibly disorienting, even when they’re good, and especially when I already wasn’t feeling particularly grounded beforehand. It’s hard for me to contextualize these changes within real, ‘regular’ life. The last time I wrote in this little journal (now transferred online) was in June, as I was lying in my hostel bed in Santiago de Compostela after finishing the final leg of my Camino de Santiago. I returned home soon after to a summer full of uniquely Californian adventures, but even that home can feel ambiguous sometimes. It doesn’t stay the same as I often hope. Nature doesn’t stay the same either, exacerbated by human decisions, but there is a steadiness, a drumbeat, a wisdom and reliability that I can trust in wherever I go. A complex life thrumming outside of but alongside my own. In Córdoba, I listened to the river, I sat with the birches, I watched the herons in the sunset. On the Camino I noticed all the similarities and differences between my surroundings there and my first home, and I relied on the solace of the trees and on soothing my feet in the cool river. This summer I ran away to the forest any chance I got, sometimes for weeks at a time, the familiar scents wrapping me and grounding my new experiences in old memories. Here, in this cloudy, drastic, warmhearted, fickle, deeply connected and historical place where the folklore (deeply grounded in the local nature) forms an incredibly relevant part of the culture, I will connect all my versions and integrate myself into Place with nature. Where I sit now may not remain my sit spot throughout the fall, and rainy days will undoubtedly challenge me to find creative ways to journal in nature (pershaps some wistful window gazing?), but the pond caught my eye and reminded me of Wellesley’s own Paramecium Pond where I have spent many a moment sitting and gazing and considering and pondering (no pun intended). The reeds are different here, more long blades of grass than rods, intermingled with tall stalks of purple flowers and dappled with rainwater. The birds compete for airtime in these few dry moments and I want to know their names and lives. I’ll report back. It smells fresh, recently washed, and for once the wind is not howling. Campus is busy, there are even some other silent onlookers near me. A bee has ventured out, foraging for her hive’s winter store while spreading fertility to the purple buds so the rest of the natural world can thrive as well. That is the symbiotic relationship with nature I crave. May I be able to contribute back to this land in at least some small way, as I am sure to rely on it to ground me and give me perspective over my time here in Ireland. Until next time :))

(I tried to draw a map of where the sit spot was but it just looks like an avocado)